


An Introduction to the Flora of the Surface

by vulpineRaconteur



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineRaconteur/pseuds/vulpineRaconteur
Summary: When Velanna discovers a gap in Sigrun's education, she makes pains to fill it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenityfails](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityfails/gifts).



“These things sure are beautiful, aren’t they?”

Velanna paused at Sigrun’s question. They were on patrol of the grounds surrounding Vigil’s Keep, biding their time. Until what, they didn’t know. Another talking darkspawn to appear and make them all a little more uncomfortable, probably. Velanna didn’t care for the waiting. She had no suggestions for alternative action, but she would still rather be doing something than nothing.

But patrols with Sigrun were always entertaining, if nothing else. She seemed an endless source of strange stories that were hard to believe, and her cheerfulness wasn’t as obnoxious now as it was at first. That was a strange thing for Velanna to realize. She didn’t often find cheerfulness endearing, but this time, somehow, she did.

Sigrun was crouching on the ground, her face inches from a tall, bushy purple flower. “They’re so colorful. And they smell nice, too.” She took a big sniff. “What are they called?”

“Wolf’s tail,” Velanna answered automatically. Humans, she knew, called them lupine, but since that seemed like a complicated way to say the same thing, she declined to share this information.“There’s quite a wide variety of them across Ferelden and parts of the Free Marches. They aren’t very useful, but if dried they can really freshen up a musty aravel.”

“Wow,” Sigrun breathed, eyes intent on the flower. Then she stood up and pointed at a patch of bright red flowers further away. “Look at _those_ wolf’s tails, what a nice color.”

“I--” Velanna paused. “Those aren’t wolf’s tails, they’re vermillion paintbrushes. They don’t have any...did you think I meant all flowers are called wolf’s tails?”

“Flowers?” Sigrun asked, her tone quizzical. She looked down at the wild blossoms spread across the ground around the path. “Those and those and those,” she said, pointing to bluebells and golden poppies and lady of the snows, “they’re flowers too?”

“Yes, they...Is this some sort of joke? Are you teasing me?”

“No, no, I’m not teasing,” Sigrun said, holding her palms in front of her. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What’s the joke?”

Velanna paused. “You really don’t know what flowers are?”

Sigrun shrugged. “I’d never seen one before I came to the surface. They don’t grow underground.” She picked a wolf’s tail, gently, and turned it over in her hands as she held it close to her face. Clouds shifted slowly in the sky, casting her alternately in light and shadow. “Nothing this beautiful grows underground.”

Velanna watched Sigrun, captivated by her captivation, and felt a fluttering in her chest--which, she decided was pity. Sorrow for her friend at one more thing she’d been denied in her life. It made her angry, too. It was unfair that someone so kind should have grown up with so much lack.

She had an idea.

*

It was almost two weeks before she was ready. She spent most of that time alone, hard at work, barely speaking to anyone else. When she was finally ready, she led Sigrun out of the castle.

“So...what's the surprise?”

Velanna tsked. “It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you.” She was smiling

“Well, at least you're talking to me again.” Sigrun yawned, stretched her arms above her head and cracked her knuckles. “I was starting to think I'd done something wrong.”

“Oh,” Velanna said. “I didn’t realize--I’ve been very busy.”

“Oh yeah? What have you been working on lately?” Sigrun asked. “Your book?”

“A little,” Velanna replied quietly. She felt strangely about the book. In her mind, it was like a relic of her people’s past, something that had to be treated with care, lest it be lost. But it wasn't an ancient staff or piece of original Dalish weaving. It was a book, printed in Amaranthine, by humans most likely, and the only thing that made it valuable was what she put in it. Things that came out of her head. She'd made Warden-Commander Tabris promise to get it to the Dalish, if anything happened to her.

“Well I know it'll be great when it's done,” Sigrun said. “Maybe you'll let me read it. Hey, is that where we're going? Is that the surprise?”

“Why would I be leading you into the woods to read my book?”

“Hey, what do I know? Maybe that’s how Dalish books work. The pages are blank unless you have at least four trees within five feet of you.”

Velanna was thoughtful. “That could be done, I think. The easiest way would be to enchant the ink, and tree detection spells are a trifle. But could it be applied retroactively? That would most likely have to be an enchantment on the entire book, rather than just the ink. Perhaps a spell to make it stay shut when out of the forest. Or in the hands of a human! That might be the best solution after all. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Sigrun had been watching her with a little smile on her face. Velanna had gotten that feeling, like she’d shown too much and ridicule was right around the corner, but ridicule didn’t come.

“Nothing. Sorry. I know I tend to prattle to myself about things no one else finds interesting.”

“I find it interesting,” Sigrun insisted brightly. “Not like it’s information I can do anything with, but it’s definitely interesting.”

“Oh. Well, good.” She blushed. “That isn’t the reaction I’m used to.”

“That’s too bad,” Sigrun responded softly. “You’ve got a lot to say that’s worth hearing.”

Velanna spotted one of her wards carved into a tree and said “We’re here.”

They came out into a clearing, and Sigrun gasped. The forest floor was covered in wildflowers. Reds and blues and shades of green that the world underground would never know. Neat little patches of color, pushing against each other, keeping clear of the network of narrow paths. Flowers climbing the trees, flowers as tall as Velanna and so small they were shorter than the grass.

Sigrun stared at all this, her eyes sparkling, and Velanna smiled.

“Did you make this?” Sigrun asked. “Did you grow these?”

“Mostly with magic,” Velanna replied airily. “Use the right spells and you can convince the ground to grow anything for you.”

“It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Are you ready to get started?”

“Huh?” Sigrun asked, whipping her head around to look at her. She was blushing. Why was she blushing? Velanna felt warmth rising in her cheeks, too, but _why?_

“I thought, since--I did this to show you all the flowers you’ve never seen. Not _all_ the flowers, of course, I mean--There are a lot of flowers out there, you couldn’t have expected me to show you all of them.”

Sigrun laughed, a little too hard. “No, of course not. That would be silly. Velanna, did you do all of this for _me?_ ”

“Well…” Velanna looked away from Sigrun and noticed a patch of bright yellow fiddlenecks that were drooping. She twisted her wrist and they stood up straight again. “I must admit that once the idea occurred to me, a certain professional pride kept me motivated. But...” She thought about how she’d felt during their last conversation. It had brought the injustice of Sigrun’s past to so fine a point, had made her so angry, she couldn’t stand it.

“I thought it was something you deserved.”

She looked back at Sigrun, and couldn’t quite read the look on her face. But she was smiling, and Velanna figured that was good enough. “Let’s begin with the mountain flowers.”

*

It took them nearly an hour to tour the garden. Sigrun cooed over the petite purple owl’s clover (“A name the humans have adopted from the Dalish,” Velanna said), laughed at the hairy seeds of the desert sunflower (“Can make a decent mana poultice, but doesn’t seem worth the trouble”), marvelled at the hand-sized blossoms of crystal grace (“They make a tinkling sound in the wind, highly irritating”).

Sigrun crouched low beside a multi-colored patch of broad-petaled flowers. “What are these called?”

“Mariposa lilies,” Velanna responded. “Native to Antiva. Most likely brought to Ferelden by the Dalish, as some clans use them in mourning ceremonies.”

“They’re lovely,” Sigrun said. “There was nothing like this at _my_ funeral.”

Velanna crouched beside her, taking in a bright orange lily. “You should have invited someone Dalish.”

“A shame I didn’t know you yet, then,” Sigrun said, smirking. She looked at Velanna, and their eyes met. Sigrun’s lips parted and she took a deep breath.

“Thank you for this,” she said softly. “I had no idea there was beauty like this on the surface.”

“The natural world is full of wonders,” Velanna replied, her own voice quiet, too.

“I wasn’t talking about the flowers,” Sigrun murmured, and kissed her.

It felt to Velanna like a shock, a lightning spell backfiring, then just warmth and softness and a joy in her chest. Sigrun pulled back, and it irritated Velanna in the most childish way.

“Is that alright?” Sigrun asked, cautiously.

“You--” Velanna said, then paused. “Definitely.” And she kissed Sigrun again.

It was hours before they returned to the Keep.


End file.
